


Tidal

by flowersheep



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, fem!merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 08:21:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4172679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersheep/pseuds/flowersheep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war against Essetir was going well up until Morgana made an appearance. Now Merlin is faced with a difficult choice, one that will determine the tide of the war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tidal

**Author's Note:**

> For week 1 of the 2015 Merlin Arts Fest.
> 
> This could be considered a prequel to a fic I wrote last fall for Merlin Femslash Week, _Monsters in the Moon_ , but stands just fine on its own.

Merlin doesn’t leave the tent until she’s finished meticulously attending to each one of Freya’s wounds and assured herself that her lover’s sleep is a restful and healing one, despite three separate squires showing up at various times to inform her that King Arthur requests her presence immediately. Arthur won’t mind her tardiness. He knows what Freya means to her. She considers taking the time to strip out of her armor and wash the bloody evidence of battle from her face, put on some fresh clothes that don’t smell like sweat, but decides against it. The seriousness with which the male knights treat her has some strange dependence on how much she happens to resemble a woman at any point in time. Normally it doesn’t bother her. She knows her own strength and how soundly she can whip their arses on the training fields. However today she has no patience for it. The battle should have been swift and easy, except that the appearance of Arthur’s sister had complicated matters. Morgana is no match for Merlin in terms of magic, but her appearance caught Merlin off guard and she hadn’t retaliated quickly enough to keep Camelot’s army from suffering a devastating blow. Or to keep Freya from being injured.

The camp is smothered under a heavy, subdued air, too quiet for a place occupied by an army. She feels the knights stealing glances at her as she strides past, headed for the king’s tent. Though they accepted her readily enough after she proved herself on the battlefield they’ve always been wary of her, as if they can sense the secret she keeps. Or perhaps, despite their acceptance, they still can’t quite fathom how a woman has proved herself worthy of the same knighthood as them, being called ‘sir’ instead of ‘dame’. Two women, when you include Freya. Three women, actually, or at least it would have been if Gwen hadn’t accepted Arthur’s proposal. She makes an excellent queen, but Merlin can’t help mourning the loss of her skill on the battlefield.

No one stands guard outside the king’s tent. Merlin shakes her head at the sight. Sometimes she wonders if Arthur realizes what it is to be king. He often accuses her of having no sense of self preservation, on account of her daring tactics in battle, but Merlin only uses those tactics because she knows the odds are with her. Arthur is the one who doesn’t seem to realize that as king, and Uther’s son at that, he has inherited a big bright bullseye right on his back and if he isn’t careful an assassin will take advantage. Briefly, she considers that perhaps the guards have been called inside so that Arthur might have someone fresh to bounce ideas off of. It wouldn’t be the first time. But when she enters Arthur is alone, back to the tent opening, pouring over a map of the battlefield.

“My Lord,” Merlin says, sketching a quick bow. Arthur turns and acknowledges her with a nod before beckoning her closer.

“Today was a setback,” Arthur says as she approaches, “but nothing we can’t recover from.”

“We suffered many losses,” Merlin reminds him.

“We did,” Arthur acknowledges, the weight of each of his dead soldiers evident in his tone. “How is Freya?”

“She’ll be fine. I assume you have a plan?”

Arthur glances at her. “I do.”

His tone isn’t reassuring. “I’m not going to like your plan, am I,” Merlin guesses. The smile Arthur flashes her is quick and apologetic.

“I think it unlikely,” he says. “But I would appreciate it if you would at least hear me out.” When Merlin reluctantly gestures for him to continue he says, “We need to maximize our resources. Morgana may have destroyed a sizable portion of our army, but that doesn’t necessarily mean we’re at a disadvantage.” It isn't hard to see where he's going with this, especially when Merlin takes into consideration the fact that she is the only one of Arthur's knights who has been summoned.

“You mean magic,” Merlin says, unable to keep her displeasure from her tone. It’s not that she doesn’t see the merit of using magic, both her own and that of the knights who possess it. It’s just that Merlin fears Arthur overestimates the ability of his non magical knights to handle it in a manner that won’t have them turning on their own comrades. He’s optimistic like that.

“I know you have reservations about it,” Arthur says. “But we can’t lose this war. Steel and sinew alone won’t be enough to prevail, not now that we know Cenred has formed an alliance with Morgana.”

“I have more than reservations about it,” Merlin says bluntly.

Arthur sighs. “We don’t have a lot of options.” He looks so old in that moment and Merlin has to remind herself that he’s not that much older than she is. It isn’t even a year into his reign. Arthur should be in Camelot, guiding his kingdom into the golden age the druids are always talking about, not camping out on his own border in order to repel an army backed by his sister.

“I’ll consider it,” Merlin reluctantly relents.

Arthur’s smile is endless relief and gratitude, even though the answer isn’t a yes. “That’s all I ask.”


End file.
